"You already thanked me."
"I'm thanking you again." I reach out and put my hand on his jaw. The scarred side. He doesn't flinch anymore when I do this."You didn't have to do any of this, Ronan. The club, Judge, going to that lodge—"
"Yeah, I did."
"Why?"
He looks at me for a long moment. Then he stands, picks up his coffee, and walks to the window.
For a second I think he's not going to answer. That I've pushed too far, asked for something he's not ready to give.
Then he speaks.
"Kandahar province, 2016," he says to the window. To the valley beyond it. "My unit was doing village security. There was a woman, mid-twenties, who kept showing up with injuries. Burns. Broken fingers. We knew her husband was doing it. Everyone knew. But it was... complicated. Cultural. Political. Command said we couldn't intervene."
He takes a sip of coffee. His jaw is tight.
"One night I was on patrol and I heard her screaming. Found her husband in an alley with his hands around her throat." He pauses. "I pulled him off. Broke his arm doing it. Command reprimanded me. Said I'd damaged local relations. That I should've let the village elders handle it."
I don't say anything. Just listen.
"Two weeks later her husband killed her," he says flatly. "Burned down their house with her inside it. The elders called it an accident."
The silence that follows is heavy.
"I couldn't save her," Ronan says. "I tried. I broke the rules, took the reprimand, did everything I could within the system. And she died anyway." He turns to look at me. "So when you walkedinto the bar and I saw the way you carried yourself, the way you held your ground even when Cal put his hands on you, I knew. I've seen that before. I've seen what happens when women like you don't have someone willing to break the rules."
My throat is tight.
"I'm not going to let you be her," he says simply. "I'm not going to follow the rules and watch you get hurt because someone decided the rules matter more than you do."
I stand. Walk to him. Put both hands on his chest and look up at him.
"What happened to her wasn't your fault," I say.
"I know that." His hand comes up and covers mine. "Doesn't mean I don't carry it."
"Is that why you came here? To Copper Ridge?"
He nods. "Got out after that tour. Judge found me three months later, said he was starting a charter in a mountain town, asked if I wanted in. Said I could work on bikes and keep my head down and nobody would ask me to follow rules that got people killed."
"And you said yes."
"Took me about five seconds." A ghost of a smile. "Turns out I'm better at protecting a small town than I was at protecting a country."
I reach up and pull him down and kiss him. Soft. Deliberate.
When I pull back his eyes are dark and steady on mine.
"I love you," I say.
I don't plan it. The words just come, fully formed, like they've been waiting for exactly this moment.
He goes very still.
"Harper—"
"You don't have to say it back," I say quickly. "I know it's fast. I know we've only known each other for a while. But I'm done acting like I don't feel things just because the timeline doesn't make sense. I love you. You're allowed to take your time catching up."
